Collected evergreen tales
by Zeschi das Mondkalb
Summary: Hi folks! First of all: this will be miles apart from my Elder-Scrolls-stories. It's a translation of some old works by German author Anna Schieber (long dead, may she rest in peace). And with "old" I mean that this series was published in 1910 (!) by Quell-Verlag, Stuttgart (Germany). For further details, please read author's notes.
1. Chapter 1

author's notes: First of all, I want to make clear that in this case I'm not the _author_ but rather the_ translator_. This will be a collection of stories called "Collected evergreen-tales" of and by Anna Schieber. Anna Schieber has been an old-fashioned, very Pietist (a sub-stream of Protestantism) author. She lived from 1867 to 1945 in south-western Germany (place of birth: Esslingen on the Neckar, deceased in Tübingen on the Neckar).

She's been VERY productive in her days. She's written ca. 60 books, poems, stories mainly for children and people in dire need of comfort. The collected evergreen-tales were released in 1910 at Quell-Verlag, Stuttgart/Germany. In her works, she spreads a folkloristic panorama of the "good ol' times" in the –then-a-days- kingdom of Württemberg. "Something for the soul" as a former owner of my edition scrawled across the front page with lead pencil. However, she keeps patriotism to a minimum – at least in this collection of tales. In fact, her relations to the Nazi regime have been deemed "indifferent". Thank you for the background information, Wikipedia!

Disclaimer: Phew, this is a well – debateable - case. The works of Anna Schieber seem to have been quite popular and are probably still edited today. But I don't know if there's an English version, or if there ever _has been. _I might be inserting my foot in my big mouth with publishing this. [making a kotau] A thousand apologies in advance! No profit-making is intended on _my _side however, as I'm just the translator. Aaah one more thing: I won't present the stories in their original order. I'll jump right to my favourite one.

The tale of the ribbon hawker

Up in the "Suabian highlands", in the direction of Lake Constance – there it was taking place. The sun was setting and said a friendly farewell across the whole landscape, over ripe grain fields, over villages and farms, over woods and hills and orchards. It's a beautiful country up there: the sun has every right to look at it in a friendly manner. As the sun had almost disappeared under the horizon and only a narrow golden stripe could be seen behind the hills, the evening bells started ringing. One called out to the other, that the day was over now and wherever a church or chapel looked out from among the tree tops, it had a resonant voice to match. That voice told the people to stop work for now and think of something other, more important than the rest. Here and there in the fields, small troops of people could be seen, who folded their hands right at the first toll of the bell and silently prayed to themselves. Because they knew that a blessing was needed in their line of work and for the sleep in the night to come, lest no evil befall them.

And right into the setting sun strode the ribbon hawker. He had a large pack wrapped in black oilcloth hanging from his back, carried it on a rein over one shoulder. Maybe he had become a bit bent from carrying this pack, day in and day out from dawn till dusk. He walked leaning forwards a bit and rested his weight on a strong rosehip staff while walking. He had shoved his cap far to his neck, so his grey hair was on full display. But his face was round and flushed, and though it was marred by a thousand wrinkles no one would think it an old man's face, old as the ribbon hawker was. The eyes were making all this difference, looking at the world youthfully and gaily, as if they had to discover something new and beautiful at any given moment.

He walked on at a brisk pace as he still had to walk some distance towards his hut. But he couldn't walk as fast as he had planned. That being due to all the people knowing him, who were in the fields or passing in the streets to their houses and he knew _them. _For instance there was a voice calling down from a harvest wagon or out of a meadow: "Good evening are you still up and about, too Joachim? Do please visit us again; the farmer's wife is already waiting. She needs apron-ribbons, the boys need expanders and the granny needs a nightcap."

Then the ribbon hawker laughed over his round, red face from ear to ear, greeting back to every one and stopping here and there, especially if children were close by because he loved children the most, even if he got along with the grown-ups. For the children, he kept beautiful, multi-coloured, gold-seamed marbles in his pockets and red-and-white power cookies in a round wooden bin and the kids kept running towards him wherever they spied him. They weren't shy towards him at all! When he arrived at a farm they already called out to him through the windows and then each and all gathered around him: the house-wife and the granny, the maid- and man-servants and the children especially. Then he spread out all his wares: buttons and needles and thread, ribbons, rough and fine pipe-cleaners and expanders, dairy cloths for filtering milk and nightcaps, gingerbread too on St.-Nicklas-Day. And he always knew some novelty to come along with.

He came to all the settlements and farms, almost right to the lake. Often a farmer would say to him: "Joachim, when you're passing through Reutti again, could you please tell my brother, the Vincent-farmer, that my wife has delivered yet another baby. It being a baby girl this time and everything is well."

Or a wife took him aside secretly and said: "Joachim, please _do _look after my George. He's gone cattle-herding at the Jörgi farm and one can never know what kind of awkward situation might arise with such a boy; the summer's all too long." And the ribbon hawker made a few knots more on his handkerchief to the ones that had already been there. But that was in jest, for he never forgot to deliver a message, one could be assured of that. There was only _one _thing the ribbon hawker didn't carry on and that was slander going around, a hateful verdict about others that may have come before his ears here and there. He let _those _escape his mind silently and in case anyone asked him… "Hey ribbon hawker, why didn't you tell this and that? You surely must have known; one likes to hear new stories." Then the ribbon hawker only said: "First of all, one can never be sure if it went how people _claim _that it was. And secondly: if it _were _true, you don't know how the situation arose and thirdly: it's always better to talk of something good rather than bad."

And that was that, so along with the ribbon hawker, something clean and peaceful always entered the house, he might go to any house on his tour. So it was no small wonder that everyone wanted to buy from him, and everyone liked to entrust him with a message and so he not only carried a stately pack of goods on his back , and not only a fine, round purse on a string under his shirt but also foreign matters entrusted to his heart. He lived on his lonesome in a little squat house, that he owned and where he was headed right now. The hut was built on a little outcrop, it could be seen from afar especially when the setting sun shone on its windows, then they sparkled and flashed like from an inner fire.

A mighty rowan tree stood next to the hut and under the tree was an old stone bench. There, the ribbon hawker sat on many a fine evening with a pipe in his mouth, let the mosquitoes play around him, listened to the blackbird up there in its cage that sang a lullaby to itself and thought back to his long life that lay past him and the shorter one maybe still ahead of him. At the foot of the hill lay a stately farm. There was high life there. Feisty, well-fed cows grazed on the green expanse of grass, which went down to the brook and further still; their bells could even be heard up here. Strong cart horses pulled the full harvest wagons to the yard, chicken clucked and clawed at the mighty dung heap, and there that oblong low house was the sheep stable, whose inmates were still on the pastures, too. Two strong, healthy sons and three daughters were more than enough replacement for maids and servants in the eyes of the farmer. The whole farm was well-kept and thriving.

The ribbon hawker looked down on it without envy. He had a peace-loving soul and it suited him well. Once, the whole estate had belonged to his grandfather and Joachim had spent his earliest childhood days still down there under the blue-tinged slate roof. Then one misfortune had chased the next one. He'd rather _not _think back to those rough days, thank you very much. He had spent a good deal of his prime paying back debts that were still left and those were his only inheritance. "Okay I admit, people shouldn't rightfully have asked it of me." Joachim said when he heard good-natured reproach that he had accepted the debts in the first place. "But I had it ingrained in me that I _had _to pay them."

Yeah the matter was settled with this argumentation, when he had it ingrained into him… Now the ribbon hawker had another thing in his heart of hearts, namely a wish, a plan. He had become used to earning money in the past while paying debts and after that when he bought the little house for himself. Now he wanted to come as far as leaving a fine foundation behind after his passing, maybe a sacred altar vessel for the church, or something real for the school, a yearly holiday for the pupils with hot dogs and buns for each one or something like that. The ribbon hawker often played with that thought when he sat on his bench in the evenings, for he didn't want to be forgotten immediately after he weren't alive any longer. And therefore, he had already started to collect money in a special kitty for a fancy marble cross on his grave. The ribbon hawker felt like he was worth as much because he had to make do without many things in his life. He was being 75 now and it often was taking quite the toll out of him, to go roaming each and every day though he didn't _look _weary.

But he thought a kind memory would be well earned with toiling and he continued to carry the oilcloth pack on his back and the staff in his hand. The sun had set quite some time ago when he went around the last bend from which he could see the farm and his little house on the small hill. There lay a last tinge of dusk on his small home and the ribbon hawker looked forward to finally being up there and that he could have supper soon. "Now it wouldn't be bad if smoke already rose from that chimney." he thought "that someone had already prepared something hot for me." But then he laughed to himself. "There's no need Joachim, you managed thus far on your own, you'll get by those few years still to come."

He was already past the farm and climbing up the hill then he heard someone calling out behind him; Apollonia the eldest daughter came running after him and cried: "Joachim now wait, I already called you three times. Haven't you seen the doctor's carriage drive somewhere or seen the doctor himself? Mother has had a stroke, now she's paralyzed and in the end she's about to breathe her last. Oh, oh and no one can go to the doctor; they're all at a wedding in Essenhausen and the servants have to stay at the stable because the horse has a colic. Oh, in the end _it _is done for as well and it's worth 500 Mark. Such an ill-fated day!"

"And the maids?" the ribbon hawker asked. He didn't look all that much forward to running to Markdorf once again and that's where the affair would be headed.

"Oh Ursel the stupid thing has sprained her foot yesterday and can't walk; and Greta had to go to the vet in Zussdorf", Apollonia said stressed "and then you know ribbon hawker, there's only that slip of nothing left, this Cathy and God knows _she's_ only good for eating and drinking and nothing else."

"Okay if you put it like this then I'll have to go myself." the ribbon hawker said. "There, take my sack and guard it for me while I'm gone Apollonia. I haven't seen the doctor but surely he's at home; that's where I'll try first."

When he left the homestead again he saw the child that Apollonia had called "a slip of nothing" and she stood at the cornerstone, pale and with strangely dead eyes and lips firmly pressed together and the ribbon hawker couldn't help himself: he _had _to give that wiry, rough hair a short, friendly pat. Then the girl flinched scared as though she was used to other touches, more man-handling than caressing. "Now why are you still standing around out here?" the daughter of the house asked. "Go into the house. If you were of any use_, _the pigs still need to be fed and potatoes need to be washed…"

The ribbon hawker didn't hear more. He went out into sinking night, out to call the doctor for the dying woman and it would very well be a two hours walk. When he left Markdorf again the stars were already up in the sky, some shimmering and sparkling others burning steadily like quiet lights. He had not met the doctor at home but a message could be sent via phone so the doctor was maybe at this very moment already driving to the Clearings Farm from another road.

If the doctor would even meet her still alive? The farmer's wife had been the most likeable person on the whole farm for the ribbon hawker. She had a quiet, somewhat subdued character and didn't fit in all that much with the boisterous, busy and greedy ways of the others. But she could be quite sure and bold all of a sudden when it was about doing welfare and helping others. She had proven that when she put her foot down for the child of a poor cousin, the shy, half-witted Cathy, the poor girl having been orphaned all of a sudden. She insisted that the child be taken under her roof though the prospects were meagre that the girl could ever earn her living. Then the ribbon hawker remembered how the girl had stood at the cornerstone, her spirits all but extinguished. As though no joy could ever come to her life again.

"She's certainly not received one kind word in the whole house but from the farmer's wife." He thought "The kid won't fare well if the wife dies." When he thought about that, he heard something cry miserably from afar with a thin, high voice. "But that can't be a child; what is it then?" he thought. Then it became ever clearer; it had to be a lost sheep. The ribbon hawker followed the sounds, there he saw something white shimmering under the uncertain light of the stars, and after a while he found a lamb lying on the ground with a broken leg and a deep bite wound that only a predator could inflict.

"No man will ever know how this happened," he said compassionately "and it can't talk. Hey lamb, who roughed you up like this and then dropped you?" But the lamb just bleated on sadly and the ribbon hawker scooped it up on one arm and carried it homewards. "It will surely die but I can't leave it lying around like this." he said. He had already picked up more animals and nursed them back to health. He had a one-eyed cat at home that he had saved from cruel boys and a starling that he had found with a broken wing. He could see no creature suffer without at least trying to help.

But the lamb didn't die. When the dead farm wife was carried away from Clearings Farm (she had died the other day), the lamb sunbathed in front of the ribbon hawker's house. Its leg was put in splints and the wound had been cleaned; and the lamb had been given a bowl of milk and the cat kept circling it and purring, as though it wanted to comfort the lamb and invite it to eat, in the place of the ribbon hawker. For he had gone down to the parry with the wake and dirge. When he came back again after some time the bowl was empty. Maybe the animals had shared it and that would be for the best, seeing as they had to become house-mates. For the ribbon hawker had in mind to keep the lamb for now and raise it. He looked pensive as though something was troubling him deeply, put his hat away and hung his Sunday suit in the wardrobe then stopped in front of the oilcloth pack pondering deeply. "I could still go down to Horgenzell, it's not too late in the day." he said. Then he went out of the door again and looked down the slope. "The bloody cross it is!" he cursed and went indoors again. The ribbon hawker was driven by something – and already for a few days which didn't let him feel his usual, steady peace.

Down there, at the outer cornerstone of the farm gate, where you can look down all the way to the parry, there stood the girl that people at the farm had dubbed "the nothing", stood there motionless and staring holes into the air. She had already stood like this in the evening when the ribbon hawker had gone for the doctor, and now she kept standing there. During the night, she had maybe slept on her leaf-sack over the stable but come the next morning, she kept coming out and staring ahead of her.

Then, from time to time, one or the other may have addressed her, telling her to get indoors and work something, or come to lunch… Or Apollonia, who kept a strong regime on the farm, was scolding her. But there she stood and didn't move. It cut deeply into the ribbon hawker's heart. So deeply, that he had to go indoors from time to time and when he _was _indoors, he had to exit again to check on the girl and there she kept standing and it was always the same. The child had been present when the old wife had collapsed all of a sudden, so probably the child was scared out of its wits and all but petrified. Maybe a caring comfort could have woken the child up, that not all was lost, even after the farmwife had passed away. But no one on the whole farm would consider _that. _

The ribbon hawker asked the buttons on his Sunday suit for advice. "Should I, should I not?" But he seemed to have been at a wrong start; the oracle always stopped with "should not" and that wouldn't do at all. Then he asked the cat. It rubbed against his boots purring all the while so he said: "Yes you feel better as well when someone says a kind word to you." Then the cat jumped on the ribbon hawker's shoulder in one bound and kept purring from up there. "Oh " he said, "you're a stupid animal, there's no talking with you. This will have to be considered duly. And if I take the girl up here, how do I get rid of her again? These folks down there will very well saddle me with her. And I must go a-roving with my pack. What do you think? That enough was enough, and because I'm 75 already…? You're a fine one to talk! Use up all my stuff while I'm still alive and then let myself be buried at the community's costs? Yeah, as if I would do that." But the cat didn't yield and kept purring. So he gave it a shove that the cat dropped down and put on his cap. Then he slung on his pack. "They are waiting for me in Horgenzell." he said.

In the recent past, another hawker had shown up in the region, one with a wooden leg. And he brought along new, modern stuff like pocket mirrors, beard wax and things like that. "Should _he _be the one to outshine me?" Joachim grimly thought. Then he locked his hut and descended the hill very decisively. But the cornerstone! If it hadn't been for the cornerstone! There the child stood, staring ahead with sunken, dead eyes. He couldn't go past her.

"Why don't you go into the house?" he asked. But the child didn't move. "Hey, they're eating tea cake for the wake. Go in and you'll get some." But it was like speaking into the wind. So ashen and quiet and apathetic did that face look, the ribbon hawker couldn't take it anymore. "Cathy" he said softly. "Cathy, do you grieve that badly for the farmwife?" No answer. Did nothing stir behind that low brow and dead eyes? Then he caressed her rough hair ever so gently, like one would pet a sick bird. A shiver ran through the child, he felt it strongly. Then he grabbed the limp hand of the girl. It was hot, burning hot. She had a calloused skin almost like leather. "It's not as if she'd been idle." he thought. Her pulse was going, hard loud and quick. "Jeez that kid is sick!" The ribbon hawker was suddenly all caring and empathy. "Please tell me what's wrong. Do you have a headache or what's the problem? You're cold; look how you're shivering! But you had to stand outdoors for days on end… Though the weather is warm, it's just the child that's sick." He had to caress her again and the shivering got even stronger and all of a sudden, the girl fainted next to the cornerstone.

"Now I've got it bad; now I've got it bad!" the ribbon hawker exclaimed. But he knew well what he had to do, didn't even have to think about it. The oilcloth pack was hanging from his back; on his arms he carried the child uphill. It didn't stir. It was heavy, weighed the ribbon hawker down more and more. He felt it indeed that he was well past his prime. But finally, he was up on the hill. He had to lay the girl down on the sunny, dry ground so he could unlock his door. She had her eyes closed and didn't move, even when he laid her down on his only bed. The bed was open and not exactly fluffed up, the ribbon hawker didn't deal in luxury in these matters; and no female being who could have seen what was missing, usually entered here. The cat jumped on the bed and curiously crept around the still shape and the ribbon hawker tucked the child in as well as he could. And then he put his pack in the corner for he wouldn't need it any longer today.


	2. Tale of the ribbon hawker part 2 & 3

And his pack stayed in the corner for a good long while, without the ribbon hawker having looked at it even once. If folks in the villages all around or on the farms would need his wares, they would either have to wait or go to the general store in Wilhelmsdorf where he used to buy supplies. Or maybe that new hawker with the wooden leg made good business now that could very well be. But the ribbon hawker couldn't be bothered with all that right now. For in his house he had the most urgent job there was. There on his bed lay the poor child that he had carried there on his arms. And the ribbon hawker, from days long gone by (when he had nursed his wasting mother), remembered all the services and doings and no nurse could have done any better or more careful and skilled than him. He just needed a bit of practice again.

Apollonia, the daughter of the house, had come running to him from the farm, running and screeching. Hands firmly placed on her hips, she had made one heck of a scene: "Joachim, are you out of your mind?!" she had asked. "Such a fuss for the likes of _her. _She'll be back on her feet in no time at all she's only slow in the head. And in the other case; it would be a mercy for her to die. And then I have to ask who should pay the doctor and the medicine? ( The ribbon hawker had called the doctor for poor, sick Cathy.) _I'_ve got no money left for this, I'm telling you right away. You could just as well call the doctor for the gypsies; it would be one and the same folly."

But the ribbon hawker didn't want to quarrel with Apollonia right now. "Shush", he said. "_Do _be quiet. The doctor told me she's got nerve fever. Listen she's calling out to her mother in delirium. Yeah, yeah the doctor will get his money; you don't have to worry about _that _down there. They won't impound my house right away." He thought about his secret box with the gold coins which were put to such good use. But only a quick stray thought, now was not the right time for it.

When Apollonia heard the word "nerve fever" she hastily retreated to the door. How easily could she catch this disease if she stepped any closer! "I should go down again; there's an awful lot to do." she said. "If anything should miss, it's not as if we had nothing left to give; I could spend a bucket of milk or so. She could well have stayed in her stall over the stable; she's got a good leaf-sack and a blanket." Having said this, she left the house and only started to breathe again in the open air.

The ribbon hawker sat down in his leather-cushioned grandfather chair. He _had _become very tired during those recent days and nights. A wooden tub filled with water stood in the room. He had bathed the child in it whenever the fever got dangerously high. But his heart was warming up to the girl even warmer still as when he had treated the wounds of the lamb. It was almost as if that child there was his! As the child lay there with her eyes shut she had an almost cute expression. Or did he only feel this way, because he had to care for her all by himself? There she was crying "Mother" again! "You poor sod" the ribbon hawker said tenderly. "She doesn't hear your calls. But be at ease, there are still people in this world who have a heart."

And when she became quiet again the ribbon hawker, too slept for a while in his chair. The cuckoo clock ticked, the cat purred softly, the lamb lay still on its straw heap at the door the starling leaped here and there and looked over the whole scene with round, smart eyes. Down in the parry the prayer bell was chiming and the old man and the child received the blessing into their sleep.

xxx

"Cathy come on, fetch my pack for me." The ribbon hawker could well have picked the pack up by himself as it stood right next to him and the child was in the bedroom. But he _did _enjoy being waited upon; so much that had he had his own way he would have ordered something for Cathy to do constantly – just to try it out.

Cathy came out of the bedroom and picked the pack up from the chair but the ribbon hawker took it from her hands immediately and said: "Now what were you a-thinking? That pack is much too heavy for you. Oh we're going to have to work on understanding a joke then."

Joking: now that was a thing Cathy hadn't practised in her former life; she hadn't had much of a chance and then she was of such small wits that she thought and did just the simplest things at hand. But she noticed indeed that she was in good, friendly hands now; as well as a young plant may notice the sun shining down on it; when it had stood in a dark corner before.

Cathy had risen from her sickbed again after weeks, pallid and weak and in everlasting silent wonder what was wrong with her; because she couldn't remember a thing of her past. But that suited the ribbon hawker just fine. This way he could nurse and raise her as he wanted without many words of explaining. He had nothing in mind but keeping this crushed human seedling and let her be at home with him that she may thrive anew and wake up.

It hadn't been an easy choice for in many end-of-work hours, the ribbon hawker had imagined… What would be after his death, when the reverend would read out in church what the late Joachim Haderer, hawker at Clearings Farm, had left for posterity: a silver baptise basin and a yearly holiday for the school children where they would be gifted with bun and sausage each. He had reached this point where he wanted to do both, and the tomb on top of it; so much had he spun his thoughts along the height and breadth of it. Before his inner eyes he had already seen the astonished faces of the people; as they would look at each other, nudge each other and whisper: "What, the ribbon hawker? Now that's a guy! You wouldn't have suspected such riches behind _him._" And so on… But it had dawned on him – quite painfully – that he wouldn't be alive any longer to hear it or see it; therefore he wouldn't be able to feel the pleasure he had worked for so hard.

And now this end-of-work pipe dream had been shoved to the background by some other thing and this being a thing that the ribbon hawker could still see with his own mortal eyes and he almost felt a bit selfish because of this. It was an idea he wasn't used to; of some life belonging to him; a person who would wait for him to come home and who would give him company when he'd retire. The ribbon hawker felt it clearly that he _had _to retire and up until now he had dreaded his empty hut. He had become very used to socializing in his long years.

The girl had gotten healthier by and by. She ate what the ribbon hawker cooked for her and when the meal was finished she started to clear the table and wash the dishes on her own initiative. One day she gave the leftovers of the milk-mush to the cat without special invitation. The ribbon hawker stood there as if it were a miracle and stuttered: "Now, now. There she goes. There's hope for her yet."

Yesterday the ribbon hawker had been to Wilhelmsdorf again for the first time in a while. St.-Nicholas-Day was approaching and he felt like he couldn't do anything other than rove around with gingerbread, kid's trumpets and other cheap toys at this time of year. Now what would folks be a-thinking if he didn't show up at all? So now he had bought a whole bulging load. Had he carried less in the past years? Or did he feel old age that much? He had come home totally spent. He'd seen his rival too in that very same store, the hawker with the wooden leg who'd _also _bought supplies. And Joachim could well have gone without seeing that guy. Well he knew the other hawker had to provide for a family. But still he liked to avoid his rival. When he had come home, Cathy had laughed for him so friendly and clearly that he had felt pleasantly warm all of a sudden. "Aaah home sweet home!" he had thought. That hadn't been the case in the past.

Today was a beautiful, clear pre-winter day and the ribbon hawker went a-roving with newly recovered vigour. Light snow lay on the far mountains; they shone with a shimmering white under the morning sun. Trees and bushes wore a breath of frost and looked as if sugared. It was the right weather for selling gingerbread and toys; the pack of ribbons wasn't so important today and hung from his back like some had-to-be. Joachim carried the main attraction in a light chest over his belly that dangled down from his shoulders on broad belts. He looked over his shoulder once before going round the bend; then he spotted Cathy running after him with such swift strides like no one at the farm had seen "the nothing" run before.

"Joachim, Joachim," she called, "wait, you forgot your tobacco tin!" The ribbon hawker smiled from ear to ear. It _had _happened more than once that he had forgotten his sneeze-tobacco tin and had missed it sorely the whole day long; but never before had someone carried it after him. After Cathy, the lamb came running in great leaps, a bit behind the lamb the cat came running and so he had his whole household trailing behind him. It was difficult to leave home like this.

Aplone stood at the farm gate and looked at the whole lot and when Cathy came past her, she said snidely: "Now I wonder if you all want to go hawking together? You're not much use for anything else with your ten years. But you're still the same old 'nothing'."

Cathy was a bit scared of Aplone, who always said something mean to the girl. So having delivered the tin to the ribbon hawker, she wanted to turn around and leave right away. But the ribbon hawker patted her shoulder quite fatherly and said: "You're my angel, don't worry." And to the dreaded Aplone, he said: "Always a bit bitter, Aplone? Always a bit mean? Will you buy gingerbread, too I wonder? The kid has to stay behind and do house-sitting; it suits me just fine the way it is. It even keeps getting better!"

And Aplone swallowed her anger on top of her other foul moods. Aplone was almost constantly in an ill mood and since she'd seen Cathy thawing and thriving; all of a sudden she remembered a mother-load of chores that "the nothing" could very well have done – if she had had the girl under her fist again. Well the ribbon hawker had come to an agreement with the farmer that _he'd _be the one to care for Cathy from now on. Aplone had not given a damn about the child in the past and now, she had to leave Cathy where she was, jealous as she might be.

But the ribbon hawker and Cathy had a new thought, each his or her own, and now they headed to the execution of each thought. Cathy wanted to do something big today, a deed where even Aplone wouldn't have anything to mock herself about. She wanted to cook supper all by herself until the ribbon hawker came home. She had watched the ribbon hawker eagerly as he cooked his bread soup and boiled potatoes. And because she wanted to do the job right (and didn't know when it would be supper time) she started right away, to soak the bread and wash the potatoes. She prepared a mighty pot of both; it would have been enough for eight people. Then she lit a fire under many difficulties and hung the pots over the hearth. Well the food started to boil after some time and foamed and bubbled…

But all of a sudden and without expectation, the ribbon hawker came home long before midday, tired and breathless and he had the teacher from the parry in tow. The ribbon hawker, after the issue with the tobacco tin, had wanted talk with the teacher about Cathy, right on this very same day. If the child had such bright moments then wouldn't it be able to go to school and learn something? Down at the farm it was like set in stone that Cathy could never do that because she was too stupid for it.

But the teacher had thought, too – on this very same morning – to look after the child; and so both men had met during their doings. The ribbon hawker had tired so fast that he had sat tiredly on a wagon-tongue; already after the first village when he had sold but a meagre third of his wares. From there on the teacher had given him a ride. "It won't do anymore," he said to himself, "it's high time to retire." And during the ride with the teacher (who was younger and had a friendly temperament) he had talked about his worries and plans concerning the child. And they had agreed that later on, when the ribbon hawker wouldn't be alive any longer, the teacher should care for Cathy that she may come in good hands.

"I did save _some _money; you'll find it later on," the ribbon hawker said and gave the final blow to his monument fancies, "it shall be used for the child's welfare." With such talks they had come near the cottage and the ribbon hawker had to lean on his staff a few times, stopped and breathed heavily. "I'll have a break now," he thought. "I'll cook something for lunch and won't leave again today." Suddenly he saw a fine, straight pillar of smoke rise from his chimney and couldn't stop wondering until he was indoors.

There, the girl stood at the hearth and stirred the soup with all her might and the soup was about to get spoilt and scorched at the moment. And from all this business, the girl had hot, flushed cheeks and sheer lively eyes. The ribbon hawker was lost for words. How had this child, this smart child, known that he would come back to his home already at noon? And who had told her to cook? Cathy was a bit astonished that it should already be evening and said: "It's almost finished, Joachim." The ribbon hawker was thoroughly stomped. "I don't think you should have second thoughts Mr teacher sir," he said proudly. The teacher put his cane and hat away then he removed the boiling pot from the blazing hearth. "It's starting to scorch," he said and had to laugh a bit when he saw the crazy amount of soup _and _the large pot of potatoes. "That's enough for three days," he said.

"Come over here, kiddo let me have a look at you. Now what do you think; if you can cook like this, in the end you'd be able to learn your letters as well?" Cathy only nodded. She thought it would be about right because the ribbon hawker had nodded, too and _he _was her model in all matters. "Yes we'll try it then," the teacher said, "it will work, just come to school."

So the "nothing" had become a school girl all of a sudden, admittedly not the brightest, quickest or slyest. Cathy still had weak gifts and nothing did change about that. But the proud father of the most gifted prodigy could not have felt greater joy, as his kid solved the most difficult exercises, than the ribbon hawker experienced when Cathy for the first time read a verse from the gospel book. He felt almost as if Cathy had written this verse by herself and he patted her rough hair. "You've done very well. Now who would have thought that?"

The girl was living with the ribbon hawker for two years now and though she didn't promise to become a scholar at least she'd managed to become a somewhat decent housewife. She worked busily and wasn't afraid of Apollonia any longer because the latter could no longer claim that Cathy wasn't worth her salt. Immediately after returning from school she started to do chores in the cottage and seldom did she let the soup get spoilt again. The ribbon hawker didn't go roving any longer. He had become too old and tired by and by. His highlight of the day was when Cathy took a seat at the table, and then the cat and the now grown-up sheep also crowded in and the starling sat on Cathy's shoulder. Then he had all his living possessions together. But the girl was the best of the whole lot. "She was worth all those expanses," he said to the teacher here and there. The teacher often visited them and always promised to look after Cathy in the future. But the ribbon hawker didn't have to worry that he would be soon forgotten – even without the foundation. For who has planted love in his lifetime on such a grave flowers shall grow; even if only a dim-witted Cathy will water them. And that's better than the largest block of marble.


End file.
